


latin class

by SeeYouAtImprovPractice



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, Teacher AU, also he's closeted whoops, baz as a latin teacher, because trauma bad, everything is okay, he works at a Normal school, ignore that tag shhh, no beta reader we die like men, only for a little bit though it's mostly just domestic, so hear me out fellas, soft, teacher!Baz, ummm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-01-23 23:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeYouAtImprovPractice/pseuds/SeeYouAtImprovPractice
Summary: Working at a Normal school has its benefits, especially when you’re in a gay relationship with your formal mortal enemy, who also happens to be the savior of mages and the first person ever to lose their magick. So no, I’m not too terribly upset about my work environment.OR5 times Baz's Latin class falls in love with Simon Snow, and one time they realize Baz isn't that bad either
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 21
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AAA thank you for reading my story. I have a couple other chapters outlined, so hopefully they wont take too long to publish, but sadly I don't have a schedule because I suck at that. These are mostly oneshots though so I hope you guys don't mind the wait too much! I'll try my best to get stuff out soon. Love you all, I hope you enjoy the story

How I wound up teaching Latin in a Normal high school, I still don’t quite understand, but here I am. I always wanted to teach - (as much as I dislike children, I don’t mind teenagers) - so I was originally planning on becoming a professor at Watford. After the whole disaster with the Mage, however, I have just a few too many traumatic memories associated with the school to feel comfortable spending all my time there. Besides, that would mean being away from Snow, and that’s never something I’d willingly choose. 

Working at a Normal school has its benefits, especially when you’re in a gay relationship with your formal mortal enemy, who also happens to be the savior of mages and the first person ever to lose their magick. So no, I’m not too terribly upset about my work environment. Definitely fewer chimaera attacks, and aside from the comfort of only being known as the strict Latin teacher instead of the sole heir to the Pitch family name, I find at least some comfort in hiding my sexuality from my students.

Of course I don’t like to hide myself, but it’s lovely to have a place in which nobody is asking me invasive questions and berating me for my sexuality. None of the students here are very invested in finding out about my personal life, as they all find me at least mildly terrifying, and honestly I’m perfectly content to keep it that way. 

“Can anyone tell me what the phrase ‘aut cum scuto aut in scuto’ means?” I ask the class. Nina raises her hand immediately and I hold back a smile. She reminds me an awful lot of Bunce in her Watford years. “Anyone other than Nina?” The class giggles, and Nina rolls her eyes. I look around to see Peter, a very quiet boy I believe is mortified by my presence, raise his hand tentatively. “Peter?”

He squeaks, like he hadn’t expected me to notice him, and he regrets raising his hand in the first place. “Do or die, sir, correct?” he asks stiffly. I nod approvingly.

“That’s correct. Well done, Peter.” He turns red and buries his face in a book. His friend pats him on the back, chuckling silently. “Moving along, would anyone like to volunteer to come up and—” I’m cut off by my phone ringing, which immediately catches my attention, because everyone knows not to call me during school hours. My heart rate picks up. 

“One moment everyone, I have to check this.” The class starts whispering. It’s understandable, since I’m usually very professional and this is very out of the ordinary. I check the name of the caller, and my stomach drops when I see Simon’s contact. I curse under my breath. 

“Simon? Are you okay, what happened?” I ask hurriedly.

“What? Oh, I’m fine, it’s just… you left your lunch at home. So I brought it here but I don’t know how to get in.” I let out a deep sigh of relief. 

“You should have just texted me, you nearly gave me a heart attack there, you know.” I can’t see his face but I know he’s pouting. 

“I’m sorry, darling, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t starve. Now tell me what I need to do to get in and drop it off, I feel really awkward just standing here.” I shake my head, laughing under my breath, my heart melting a bit from the pet name. After explaining to him what to do and alerting the front desk that he’s here, I hang up the phone and turn back to the class. 

“Sorry, everyone, I forgot something at home, so my—” I hesitate for a millisecond, deciding on what title to give Simon. “—roommate is bringing it here. Apologies for the interruption. Now, back to Latin, then.”

We continue class for around five minutes before Snow appears in the window next to the door looking incredibly awkward. I send Agatha (a tragic name for a student of mine to have, I know) to open the door for him, who giggles when she takes in his dishevelled appearance. “Hi Baz,” he says, flashing me a grin. Crowley, I’m ready to die. He is so not allowed to smile at me like that in a place I’m closeted. With an amount of self control that might impress my father, I beckon him over to my desk without a word.

He shuffles over to me and hands me a grey bag which carries leftover salad from dinner the other night. “Thank you, Snow. Fancy meeting my class?” He nods excitedly. I steer him over to the centre of the room. “As I said before, this is my roommate—” Snow shoots me a small disapproving glance at that, he doesn’t like me being closeted, thinks it’s unhealthy for me to keep myself hidden, “—Simon Snow.” Nina covers up a laugh with a cough. I almost smile. “Yes, I know, it sounds like a bad novel’s main character, but alas.” Simon smacks my shoulder and glares playfully at me. 

“He’s wanted to meet my class for a while, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised to find out he took my lunch from my bag this morning so he’d have an excuse to.” Snow snorts next to me. “So, since we only have around five minutes of class left, I think it would be okay if you all wanted to ask him some questions and you could properly meet.” The class murmurs excitedly. I don’t often allow them to have free time for no reason.

I take a seat at my desk and relax, smirking at Simon, who glares at me before addressing the class. “Well, hi, I guess. My name’s Simon, as he said. I’m 24 years old, I’ve lived with Baz since I was 11, because we were roommates at our boarding school, and my favorite food is scones. So I guess I’ll take questions if you have them?”

Several kids raise their hands, and Snow points to Aoife first. “You said you’ve lived with Mr. Pitch since you were 11?” Snow nods. “How was that?” she asks, smirking too her friends in amusement. 

“Well it wasn’t always fun, I’ll say that, especially because we absolutely hated each other for a while. Our parents had a longstanding feud, and I came from an orphanage whereas he came from a long line of a very rich family and lived in a bloody castle, so we fought a lot. But I rather enjoy his company now that we’ve gotten older. He’s not as big a prick as he seems, I promise.” Aoife grins.

Snow calls on another student, a boy named William. “What school did you go to?”

“Watford. I got in on a scholarship, but Baz’s mum was the old headmistress.” William groans.

“Well you can’t expect anyone who wasn’t posh to be at that school, I suppose. Mr. Pitch really lived in a castle then?” I scoff. 

“It’s a Victorian manor, and it’s currently occupied by my father and his family. I live in a London apartment I’ll have you know.” William rolls his eyes. 

“Still, though…” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Agatha asks when she’s called (because of COURSE it’s her, it was too perfect an opportunity for the universe to ignore it I suppose). He stiffens and shoots me a worried look. I raise my eyebrow.

“I, uh. I have a boyfriend, actually.” 

“Oh, is he nice?” she asks. I sigh in relief.

Snow laughs. “I suppose. He thinks I’m a bit ridiculous, but he’s sweet when he wants to be.”

“Well that’s good, then,” Agatha responds. The bell rings, and the class starts packing up.

“Don’t forget, you all have an essay due next week. Don’t put it off until the night before, I don’t want to read caffeine-fueled rambling for an entire weekend.”

“Bye everyone,” Snow calls. “It was nice meeting you all!” Several students stop to say goodbye to him as they exit.

The classroom empties slowly, and I finally get to let down my walls a bit and look at my stunning boyfriend. “Thank you for coming, love, I appreciate it a lot. Would you like to stay for my lunch break?” Simon nods eagerly. 

I sit at my desk and take out my food as he tells me a story about Bunce and her friend from uni and a failed baking attempt. I must admit, I’m paying much more attention to his pretty eyes than his story, and I can’t resist kissing his forehead lightly once he finishes it. 

“Uh, Mr. Pitch? I can come back if this isn’t a good time, I just had a few questions on the essay…” squeaks a small voice from the doorway. My heart stops. I look over and see Peter, redder than a cherry, looking very frightened. 

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

This is going to be a disaster. 

Thankfully we don’t have to worry about Peter, because the kid is still terrified of me, and after asking him to keep quiet if I gave him help on his essay, he’s not trying to spill my secrets to the whole school. He’s not the type to gossip. 

That doesn’t mean that the whole school is as trustworthy, however. Agatha is a major gossip, and I’m very much hoping we don’t give her a reason to show her true colors today. 

Snow is coming with me to conferences. I’m sure some of the kids will be ecstatic to see him — because why wouldn’t they, he’s absolutely amazing, but nevermind — but I’m honestly terrified. I should’ve remembered that 11th years were nosy and always ask about love lives, but I didn’t, and it was a close call. If the bell hadn’t rung, we might’ve had a bit more gossip floating around the school. As it is, there were whispers for a couple days. 

Regardless, I’ve coached him on how to act tonight: sit still, smile politely, make small talk with excited students, and let me do what I’m being paid to do. 

So here we are — me, setting up my desk and papers, and Snow, sitting off to the side playing games on his phone. 

Conferences start at 4:30, and it’s 4:27 right now, according to my watch. So they’ll be here soon. 

“Remember to behave, love,” I mutter to Simon, who rolls his eyes. 

“You’ve said that a thousand times, Baz. Relax.” His eyes soften. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby, I promise,” he says, voice lowered. Nobody else is in the room with me, but he can sense how nervous I am, and he’s so damn considerate I nearly cry right there. 

I collect myself, looking at the clock. 4:31. Students will be here any minute. i squeeze Simon’s hand lightly before pulling away and adjusting my tie. 

William, predictably, comes in first. He was just here for football practice, I suspect, since I know he’s on the team. I wave him over to my desk and stand to shake his father’s hand. 

“Pleasure to meet with you, Mr. Ainsley, I’m Basilton Pitch, the Latin teacher.” He nods politely and sits across from me. “Hello, William, how have you been?”

“Good, sir.”

“Right then,” I say, opening his folder. “Let’s get started, shall we?” I grab his overall grade report and take a look. “You’re doing quite well, William, with a B+. That essay was tough, I’m not surprised it brought you down a bit, but I’m sure it’ll get back up after our next test since you seem to do very well on those.” William exhales a little like he was worried. “Do you have any questions for me?” I turn to his father. 

“May I look at his essay score?” I nod, pulling it out of the folder. 33.75/40, not bad at all. 

“This essay was particularly challenging, and I graded a bit more harshly than usual, so he did very well considering. it was there to hopefully let them get an idea of what I’ll be asking for with the semester final project, so he’s on track for a very good score in my class if he looks over his few mistakes.” Mr. Ainsley nods. 

“Thank you. We best be heading off to his Algebra teacher, then.” I smile politely. 

“Very well. Nice to meet you, sir. I’ll see you in class? Michael.”

“Bye Mr. Pitch.” He waves at Simon, who grins. 

That wasn’t too bad, not bad at all. my only hope is that the others will all run as smoothly as this went. 

The next couple of conferences go smoothly as I’d hoped, mainly because the students only said hi to Simon and made small talk before we started. This time however, Aoife, talkative as she is, can’t help but ask a bit more than I was praying she would. 

“Why are you here? It’s unusual to see people from outside of school at conferences, you know.”

“My friend is in America right now, and I needed to go somewhere with Baz after this anyways, so we thought it would just be more convenient to take the one car instead of two. It’s not for too long, and I’m happy to see you all again,” Simon says genuinely. 

“Where are you going?” Aoife presses. Well that’s a difficult question to answer. I’m taking Simon out to dinner tonight, because in the stress of midterm grading, I thought we could use a night to relax together, and forgot to look up the day of conferences before getting reservations. 

“Uhh,” he glances nervously at me. “We’re going to get dinner, and then we’re gonna go see an exhibit at an art museum he’s been dying to go to. It sounded interesting.” I hope I’m imagining the slight furrow in Aoife’s brow. Thankfully she moved on quickly. 

“Oh, cool! That sounds fun.” I clear my throat. 

“Well, let’s move on to your grade report then, shall we?”

We make it to the last ten minutes until I’m allowed to leave before Agatha comes to my table with her mother. 

“Hello, Agatha, how are you?” She smiles at me politely. 

“Well, and you, Mr. Pitch?” 

“Very well. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Brown, I’m Basilton Pitch, the Latin teacher here.” She smiles at me. 

“Pleasure. And who is this?” She gestures to Simon. 

“Simon Snow,” he says, reaching for her hand to shake. “Lovely to meet you, ma’am. I’m Baz’s roommate.” 

Her eyes narrow. “Ah, I see. Agatha has told me about you. Well then, let’s take a look at her grades, shall we, Mr. Pitch?”

We look through Agatha’s grades (Cs on most of her projects, not horrible, especially considering the difficulty of the language), and I expect them to leave quietly, but her mother leans over to Simon. “You’ve lived with Basilton for a long time, correct?” Simon nods. 

“Since we were 11, yeah. We were roommates at Watford.” Brown purses her lips. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or someone to live with? I mean no disrespect, but you’re quite a handsome young man, and I find it… odd that a man such as yourself would have difficulties with that.” I feel myself stiffen and my jaw clench, and I can sense Simon’s anger next to me. 

“I actually have a boyfriend, ma’am. But I find it more comfortable living with someone I’ve lived with my whole life than anyone else, if you must know.” I see Mrs. Brown’s eyes flash dangerously. 

“Oh, I didn’t know. I must be going, but it was a pleasure meeting you both. Come now, Agatha.” Agatha looks absolutely mortified. She stares at me helplessly, like she’s trying to convey how sorry she is. 

“It was nice seeing you, Simon. Thank, Mr. Pitch.” And with that, she’s dragged away from our table. 

“Well, that was interesting,” Simon mutters. I sigh. 

“Let’s just go to dinner, love. That was my last meeting for the night.” His face softens, and he smiles softly at me. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS i'm finally back!! i'm sorry for the wait, i've been really busy with school and medical stuff recently, but i'm on break, so i get to write! this chapter is a little short and uneventful but i wanted to get it out sooner rather than later. i'm gonna try to get another chapter out soon, which will be longer and more exciting, i promise. thank you guys for your patience and your support, it means a lot to me. lots of love, and happy thanksgiving to my american readers :)

“Ba-aaaz, please,” Snow whines. “I  _ know  _ you have her recipe, and I want scones!” I frown at him. 

Truthfully, the reason I’ve refused him until now was that I was planning on making him scones for our anniversary, but he’s looking at me with his adorable blue puppy eyes and looking like a dream as always, and I know I can’t say no. I sigh, pulling out my phone, and I hear him whoop. “Crowley, Snow, we’re in public, be quiet,” I scold, smiling inwardly. He’s such a child sometimes.

I don’t take him to grocery shop often because he’s so much like a child in a supermarket. He wants every type of sweet and pastry, and he’s just a bit too loud at all times, even disregarding his clumsiness with his wings and tail. He was having a rough day today though, and I didn’t want to leave him alone to sit on the couch. I love seeing him excited, even if he’s a bit too loud about it for public. 

So I find the recipe on my phone and pull him along over to the baking section. Simon has decided he wants to take up baking, as he thinks it might be helpful for him to find a hobby. I couldn’t agree more, and besides, if I get an excuse to bake with my darling boyfriend, who am I to refuse it? “Alright, so we need all-purpose and almond flour first. I think we have enough all-purpose at home, so let’s just try to find almond for now. If we need more, I’ll come pick some up later.”

Snow heads down the left side of the aisle, looking for flour. I glance down at the list to see what else I need to find. It looks like we have most of the ingredients at home, and we’ll just need to stop by the refrigerated section for heavy cream, so I tuck my phone back into my pocket. 

“Excuse me, sorry,” says a voice from behind me. I turn around to see a very kind looking old lady pushing her cart through the narrow aisle. 

“Apologies, madam,” I say, stepping close to the shelf. She smiles warmly at me. I look over her shoulder to see a young, anxious looking boy— merlin help me. 

“Mr. Pitch! Hello, sir,” Peter squeaks. “Uh, did you get my email by any chance? I, uh, gotta take that retake, you know…” he trails of awkwardly, looking terrified that he might somehow offend me by asking if I’ve read his email.

“I did, in fact. And yes, Tuesday works fine for me.” 

The old lady — who I assume now is Peter’s nan — turns to me. “Oh, you’re Peter’s Latin teacher, aren’t you?” I nod politely. “Oh it’s very nice to meet you, Peter enjoys your class very much, you know.” 

“I’m very glad to hear it, miss. He’s a very good student, and he’d be a perfect one if he could get his confidence up a bit. I’m hoping we’ll get there this year, Peter, I really am,” I say kindly to him. He flushes. 

“Thanks, sir. I’m doing my best.” 

Simon taps my shoulder. “Found the flour,” he says, beaming at me. “Who’s this?” he asks. 

“Oh! Simon Snow, right? I’m Peter, you know, from Mr. Pitch’s class? We’ve… met.” He trails off, undoubtedly realizing how awkward it is to bring up the last time they spoke. Simon looks sheepish as well. 

“Ah, yeah, well. Hello, Peter, it’s lovely to see you.” He turns to me. “What else do we need to find?” 

“Sour cherries and heavy cream. We have everything else at home, I believe.” I skim the list once more to be sure. 

“Oh, good. I’m starved.” Simon turns back to Peter and his grandmother. “It was so nice to see you, and I hope I can come back to visit soon. It’s very fun getting to know Baz’s class. You’re all so wonderful.” Peter smiles at him. 

“Yeah! It’s a lot of fun when you’re there.” He freezes. “Not that it isn’t fun other times, I just mean, like—” I can’t help it, I laugh.

“I know what you mean, Peter. It’s alright. Have a lovely day, both of you. I’ll see you at school on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye, Mr. Pitch. Bye, Snow!” We wave and walk away to the refrigerated section. 

***

The scones were delicious, and his smile was even better. 


End file.
